


Personal Personnel Protocol

by dothedeux



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Blatant Flirting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothedeux/pseuds/dothedeux
Summary: Someone wants Jim and Spock to get married. They just don’t know who. But whoever it is, Jim is going to slam the hammer of justice over their head hard enough to make up for all the times he got trapped in the turbolift with Spock.





	1. Loyalty and Love

**Author's Note:**

> If Spock was any more obvious, it'd be indecent.

“Personal Personnel Protocol?” Jim repeated. “Quite a tongue twister.”

 

The young engineer nodded enthusiastically. Everything he did seemed to be enthusiastic. Especially the way he wrenched open the Enterprise’s main computer panel in order to tinker around. Jim was used to enthusiasm in engineering--after all, Scotty was his Chief Engineer--but this young man was downright eccentric. 

 

Jim had to give Scotty a warning glare from where he was looking on a small distance away, wringing his hands. He had been nearly inconsolable since Command had informed them that they were sending in a new specialist to update the computer protocol. Scotty never liked anyone else tinkering with his baby.

 

“Walk me through this new protocol then, Lieutenant Hall,” Jim told the engineer.

 

“ _Junior_ Lieutenant  Hall,” came the seemingly automatic reply. “I think Command forgoes the junior in their messages sometimes. I’ve still a little longer before I can expect to be a Lieutenant.” Hall paused here, and his eyes grew wide. “Not that I don’t know what I’m doing!” He quickly rectified.

 

Jim lifted an eyebrow and tried not to smile at the way Scotty was clenching with white fingers to a data chip on the other side of the room, obviously eavesdropping.

 

“Of course, Junior Lieutenant,” Jim amended. “So, the protocol?”

 

“Right! Personal Personnel Protocol. I call her 3P for short,” Hall began. “She’s brand new. The Enterprise is our first run. But don’t worry, we have done every possible test you could think of in the lab. And then some.”

 

“Yes, Junior Lieutenant, but what does it  _ do? _ ” Jim pressed.

 

Hall spread his arms wide, an expression of wonderment on his face. “Streamlines the workload. Increases efficiency. All with the power of relationships!”

 

“How so?”

 

“Well the Enterprise has been such a successful ship--congratulations by the way captain, I greatly admire what you do here--and we have been doing studies to find out  _ why  _ it works so well. One main factor we found was the togetherness of the crew. They all cited feeling like they had great friendships with their peers and even good relationships with their superiors. You foster a great atmosphere of teamwork here, Captain.”

 

Jim resisted puffing out his chest in pride. “Thank you,” he said.

 

“But,” Hall added quickly, “we can certainly improve it!”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Oh?”

 

“The computer will catalogue thousands of data points. The amount of time people spend with one another on break. Who works more efficiently with who. It will provide this data to you, Captain, hopefully to make scheduling shifts a little easier.”

 

Jim nodded, but he was feeling doubtful that this new protocol would actually improve ship efficiency--his crew was already top notch. What's a few data points going to do to change anything?

 

“And that’s not all! It will also help foster good relationships. It comes with recommendations. Anyone can access the log and see what other people are interested in, and who the ship recommends they would be compatible with.”

 

“It...shows you who you could be friends with?” Jim asked.

 

“And more,” Hall replied, nodding enthusiastically. “Let’s say you’re a scientist who wants to work a small experiment on...say...kinetic forces and gravity in your spare time. The computer would be able to show you who on the ship is most likely to be interested and who would work most efficiently with you.”

 

“I see,” Jim said. 

 

It didn't seem like a _bad_ idea. Jim always tried to encourage relationship building among his crew. This almost sounded like an advanced forum--a place to find like minded individuals. 

 

“But how can it know all that, where does the data come from?” Scotty asked. He was hovering just behind some machinery.

 

Jim should have known better than to expect that Scotty could stay uninvolved for the whole Alpha shift.

 

Hall jumped up from where he was working to pull Scotty to a monitor. 

 

“I can show you! 3P constantly monitors life signs, analyzes work data and reports…”

 

Jim interrupted the two in order to shake Hall’s hand and take his leave. Scotty was boiling over with the desire with get his hands on the project, and Jim wouldn’t stand in the way.

 

#

 

After Junior Lieutenant Hall left, Jim barely glanced at 3P other than to view the scheduling recommendation with Spock once a week. He had to admit, the recommendations were usually very good and it gave them more time to play chess. But beyond that, Jim barely thought of it until he heard Uhura discussing it on the bridge. 

 

“I was checking the 3P log the other day and I saw you and Chekov are in tenth place. You both better work a bit harder if you’re going to beat Christine and I.”

 

Sulu threw his arm over Chekov’s shoulders. “We’re headed to the gym after shift, for your information. There’s no way you’ll beat us. We have shifts together.”

 

“What’s all this?” Jim asked.

 

“The crew has devised a competition using 3P,” Spock answered, to the rest of the bridge crew’s surprise. “3P provides a list of the most ‘efficient’ and ‘compatible’ pairs possible on the enterprise. It is my understanding that different pairs are now competing to be in the number one position.”

 

“And don’t worry, there’s absolutely no betting pool, Captain!” Chekov added quickly, looking like there absolutely was a betting pool. Jim spared a glance at Spock, whose flat-lipped expression confirmed that yes, there certainly was. 

 

“I didn’t know you were aware of our silly game, Mr. Spock,” Uhura said through a side-eye. Jim guessed that Spock was in a pair that was currently beating Uhura and Chapel.

 

“I have sensitive hearing,” Spock replied primly. “And I find that the crew talks about these activities loud enough that my superior hearing is rendered moot.”

 

“Now we’ll never catch up!” Sulu griped. “Spock’s probably already hacked the whole system and knows exactly what gets you more points.”

 

“I have done no such ‘hacking,’ Lieutenant,” Spock admonished.

 

“Vulcan’s don’t cheat, anyway,” Chekov said.

 

“Well, who’s winning, then?” Jim asked, curious. 

 

“We are, Captain,” Spock replied.

 

Jim couldn't help but feel a little proud. He and Spock were a near perfect command team. And they spent an enormous amount of time together--on duty and off. If the competition was one of efficiency in friendship, their relationship would certainly win. Jim didn’t think many other pairs on the Enterprise played chess while signing paperwork together off-duty. 

 

Jim gave Spock a wide grin. “Then we’d better set a good example, hadn’t we, Mr. Spock?”

 

Jim watched Spock’s eyebrow climb up his forehead and he pretended not to hear Chekov bemoaning the loss of his betting money. 

 

#

 

Jim was on his way to sick bay to have a few drinks and a chat with Bones when Spock appeared in his path.

 

“Captain. Do you have a moment?”

 

“Of course, Spock. What can I do for you?”

 

Spock produced a small box and placed it in Jim’s hands. “I don’t need any assistance, Captain. I merely wanted to give you this.”

 

Jim stared down at the colorful box in his hands. Then he looked back up at Spock, who was looking down at him with a pleased expression.

 

“Spock, you brought me candy?” Jim asked, thrown for a loop. “What for?”

 

“Humans enjoy small gifts. Is the particular flavor is adequate?”

 

Jim eyed the box. Strawberry, his favorite. And Spock damn well knew that, too. “Yes, it’s my favorite. But Spock, it’s not my birthday or anything.”

 

Spock merely raised one eyebrow and looked back at Jim ambivalently.

 

Realization struck Jim. “You’re trying to win the 3P bet!” Jim accused.

 

“As I have not placed any wagers, expending energy in order to do so would be illogical. Expending efforts to keep my human captain content, however, is highly logical.”

 

Jim resisted rolling his eyes. Spock could justify it any way he wanted, Jim knew what was going on. He tucked the candy into his pocket. “I’ll keep in mind logical ways to keep my Vulcan Commander content then, as well.”

 

“Jim!” Bones shouted, storming down the hallway. “I should have guessed. You know, every time you’re late it’s always because you’re off flirting with the hobgoblin. Who knows how long you two would be going back and forth without an interruption? It’s a good thing I came looking.”

 

“I would not particularly categorize your presence as a ‘good’ thing,” Spock quipped with hidden humor.

 

“Bones, it’s barely been five minutes. I was late before I started talking to Spock,” Jim said.

 

“Well if that’s how it is, maybe next time the brandy will be five minutes late, too!” Bones teased.

 

“Let us not ask for the impossible,” Spock said, long-suffering.

 

#

 

“Spock, do you have a minute?” Jim said into the communicator. Spock answered almost immediately. 

 

“Certainly, Captain. I have just finished meditating,” came the reply.

 

“Could you swing by my quarters? I’m ashamed to admit it, but I am having trouble solving a puzzle and I’d like you to take a look at it.”

 

He arrived quickly. Jim opened the door and was greeted by Spock, who was still wearing the loose white robe he always donned while meditating. Jim wordlessly handed Spock some Vulcan spice tea he had replicated and moved toward the computer terminal. Spock took the tea from him, surprised, and then followed.

 

Jim swiveled the terminal so that Spock could view the puzzle--Classic Sudoku. Jim had filled out all the boxes but he had made several mistakes and the puzzle remained unsolved.

 

“Can you see where I went wrong? I’ve been staring at it for a while now and I just don’t know where to begin.”

 

Spock peered at the puzzle, and then at Jim as if he were even more confusing than the puzzle.

 

“There are six mistakes. I believe the most prudent change would be to change the three in the center square to a five. From there, the other mistakes should become apparent.”

 

“Ah, I see now. Thanks, Spock. I can always count on your logic.”

 

Spock narrowed his eyes and set down his tea. “Captain, I find it unlikely that this puzzle has genuinely proved a difficulty to you-” Spock’s voice dropped off and he stared at Jim with an open mouth. “I see. You have concocted this scenario in order to compliment me.”

 

“Should have known it wouldn’t work. You’re too logical. Know me too well.”

 

Spock closed his eyes. “Jim, this is unnecessary and illogical.”

 

“So was the strawberry candy,” Jim argued. He quickly replaced the incorrect Sudoku numbers with the right ones. He smiled up at Spock. “But, did it work?”

 

“I estimate that 3P has calculated our current compatibility at 98.5 percent, a third of a percent increase.”

 

“So it worked,” Jim grinned. “Do you have the evening? What do you say we try some puzzles that are actually challenging? I’ll get you more tea.”

 

“That would be adequate.”

 

#

 

“Good morning Captain. Mr. Spock,” Uhura greeted as she slid into an empty chair at their table in the officer’s mess.

 

“Greetings, Lieutenant,” Spock replied.

 

“I wanted to invite the both of you to our award ceremony. For the 3P competition. A few of us have made trophies for the top three pairs. Seeing as you two are likely going to be the winning pair, I was hoping you could attend?”

 

Jim blew out his cheeks and then laughed. “I think I underestimated the crew’s enthusiasm about this,” he admitted.

 

“It’s all in good fun,” Uhura assured him. “But you know how we all are with competition. You shove a couple hundred people in a big metal bucket and blast them through space for five years, they’ll make up their own things to do.”

 

“It has proven beneficial for crew morale and efficiency,” Spock added.

 

Jim spread his hands out. “Hey, I’m not against anything that is good for my ship. I’ll be there if Spock will.”

 

Spock dipped his head. “If you forward the date and time to my PADD, I will clear my schedule.”

 

“Great!” Uhura enthused. “Wear something nice!”

 

#

 

Jim only had one outfit that was nice enough for an award ceremony and also wasn’t his dress uniform. He stared at his tie in the mirror, trying to prod the knot into something more neat. It was a fruitless effort. He was almost relieved when his door chimed.

“Come,” he called, grabbing his dark blue jacket and throwing it on.

 

Spock entered the room with his usual grace wearing formal robes. Jim stared. They we the exact same shade of blue as his jacket.

 

“You did that on purpose,” Jim accused. 

 

Spock crossed the room to pulled Jim’s tie out of its knot. His hands worked quickly to redo it. “I am not sure what you are referring to,” he said. 

 

Jim rolled his eyes. “You never are, how convenient,” He groused. He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get going. We have to swing by Bones' quarters on the way. Did you know he and I are second place?”

 

“Your friendship is quite apparent,” Spock said, and they left the room and began to walk down the hallway. “The doctor is not usually quiet on the matter.”

 

“He’s not usually quiet about anything,” Jim laughed.

 

Bones stepped out of his quarters wearing a deep burgundy double-breasted jacket and black slacks. He buttoned on a cuff link and rolled his eyes and Jim and Spock.

 

“Matching, really? First place wasn’t enough?”

 

“It is entirely possible another pair may come in first place. The result are not finalized until 20:00.”

 

“Sure, when pigs fly,” Bones snipped. “Let’s go.”

 

The mess hall had been transformed into a star-lit ballroom seemingly between shifts. Candles flickered on white tablecloths. A makeshift stage had been built in front of the replicators. Someone had even hung an antique disco ball from the ceiling.

 

Jim was surprised at how many people had turned out. The room was already crowded. The Enterprise crew never turned down a party. Or a bet.

 

The trio found their seats near the front of the room with most of the bridge crew. Jim moved his nametag off of his plate to read the menu beneath it--they had picked up some unreplicated food at the last space station specifically for this occasion--Jim was looking forward to it.

 

“Is this Merlot?” Bones asked, staring at his glass like it had insulted his mother.

 

“It’s Zinfandel,” Uhura corrected primly. “From Croatia.”

 

“We picked it out at the Space Station,” Chekov added.

 

“Pity,” Bones said, and put down his glass.

 

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen, everyone!” Scotty shouted from the stage. The mess hall erupted into a thunderous applause. “Welcome to the 3P award ceremony. It’s a pleasure to be your host for this evening. I didn’t have a chance, 3P only uses life forms in its calculations. You’re all lucky, otherwise me an’ the Enterprise would’ve swept you aside!”

 

The crowd rumbled with laughter. 

 

“We’ve prepared a great evening for you. Some beautiful entertainment from our own crew. And not to mention--the food! As you all place your orders, I’ll be the first to step up to the podium to entertain. Let me just get me bagpipes, they’re backstage.”

 

Scotty was stopped by the crowds booing, laughter, and shouts. He placed a hand on his heart and feigned offense. 

 

“Alright, but when you hear who’s coming up instead, you’ll be sorry you turned me down. Let me introduce to the stage Ensign Chekov! Performing his infamous Stand-Up comedy.”

 

Chekov bounced up out of his chair and rushed the stage. He grabbed the microphone from Scotty’s hands and motioned for him to go away. 

 

“Alright, you’ve had your turn in the limelight, go slink down to your hole in engineering, or wherever else you sleep.”

 

The crowd tittered. Meanwhile, a waiter came to take the table's order. Jim ordered the steak. Spock ordered vegetarian. Bones ordered brandy. When Jim tuned back in, it seemed that Chekov’s jokes actually seemed to be doing rather well for a change. But they were at the expense of the crew members. He had progressed to impressions.

 

“Lieutenant Uhura asked me a few weeks ago an interesting question…” Chekov screwed up his face and continued on in a horrible falsetto, “what makes you think you and Hikaru can beat me and Christine?”

 

At the table Uhura crossed her arms. “Yeah, vat makes you fink zat?” She called back in a squeaky imitation of Chekov's voice. Chekov blew a raspberry in response.

 

Jim chuckled. “If you can’t take it, don’t give it,” he stage whispered to Spock.

 

“What was that, Captian?” Chekov asked, walking toward the edge of the stage.

 

“I said if you can’t take it, don’t give it!” Jim yelled, playing up the crowd, who laughed easily.

 

“Is that so? You’d know about  _ taking it, _ Captain?” Chekov asked, batting his eyelashes. The crowd hissed a big "Oooh," and laughed.

 

Jim felt a hot flush climb up his face. The double meaning was not lost on him. But he wouldn’t let Chekov have that one; he was used to casually brushing off these comments. “And giving it!” He yelled back.

 

The audience roared. A few wolf whistles pierced the noise.

 

“Jim, was that really necessary?” Bones complained.

 

“Maybe not,” Jim admitted. “But it was sure as hell refreshing. Spock, remind me to give Chekov a really early shift tomorrow morning. And maybe he’ll have to clean something, too.”

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

Chekov’s set ended and dinner was served. More of the crew showed off their talents--Jim hadn’t known that Yeoman Rand played the flute.

 

Finally, Scotty stepped back on the stage holding three envelopes. Beside him, Uhura and Chapel were holding shining trophies.

 

“Well everyone, the night is almost over. Are you all ready to hear the results?”

 

The crowd drummed on the tables, whooping and cheering.

 

“Alright! The pair who came in third place is…”

 

As Scotty peeled open the envelope, it occured to Jim that he had absolutely no idea who would be coming in third place.

 

Scotty’s eyes drifted over the writing, and then he looked up at the crowd, smirking. “The pair who won third place, perhaps against their best efforts, are none other than Leonard McCoy and Mr. Spock!”

 

Both Spock and Bones stood up, unphased. Jim gaped at both of them in turn.

 

“You two! And you knew this whole time, didn’t you!”

 

“Not too loud, Jim,” Bones said. “It’s immodest.”

 

The pair headed up the the stage with the solemnity of pallbearers. Uhura handed each of them a small bronze trophy in the shape of the starfleet insignia.

“Any words?” Scotty asked, gesturing the microphone toward the pair.

 

“I’m good,” Bones said.

 

“Fascinating. The Doctor has finally found a subject on which he does not wish to speak,” Spock deadpanned.

 

Bones elbowed him in the side. The crowd laughed.

 

“Alright, before the security team gets involved, let’s announce second place!” Scotty exclaimed. He opened the envelope, and gasped. “Montgomery Scott and the Enterprise! So 3P does include her!”

 

The crowd jeered. 

 

“Alright, alright. It’s James Kirk and Leonard McCoy!”

 

Jim stood up and made his way to the stage. He slung his arm around Bones’ shoulders and grinned at the crowd. Uhura shook his hand and handed him a silver trophy. It was in the shape of the insignia, like Spock and Bones’ trophies, but up close Jim could read the inscription:

 

_ Duty and Friendship _

_ Second Most Compatible Pair _

_ Leonard “Bones” McCoy and James T. Kirk _

 

Curious, Jim motioned for Bones to let him read his bronze trophy.

 

_ Respect and Compromise _

_ Third Most Compatible Pair _

_ S’chn T’gai Spock and Leonard “Bones” McCoy _

 

“Jim, you want to say anything?” Bones asked, prodding Jim to attention.

 

Jim took the microphone. “Bones is a great doctor and a better friend. I can confidently say I wouldn’t be here without him. He has led me through some real tough times. He’s a hell of a good man. Maybe one of the best. I’m lucky to have people like him on board my ship.”

 

“Jim’s okay sometimes,” Bones added, to the crowd’s delight.

 

Scotty took the microphone again and this time walked closer to the audience. "Are you wanting to hear who's won first place?" He prodded. The crowd cheered. 

"What? I didn't catch that."

 

The crowd whooped louder.

 

"Oh! So you do. Well, let's find out." Scotty  opened the envelope and read it silently. He looked out into the audience. “It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. I would call it the big reveal, but you all know who’s won. It’s a good thing you three are so popular, because this stage is a wee thing.”

 

“Say it already!” Someone from the crowd shouted.

 

“In first place: James Kirk and Mr. Spock!”

 

Jim looked across Bones to meet Spock’s eyes. He grinned. Spock’s eyes didn’t exactly sparkle, but it was a near thing.

 

Chekov had to tap Jim’s shoulder to hand him the gold trophy. Jim read the inscription.

 

_ Loyalty and Love _

_ Most Compatible Pair _

_ James T. Kirk and S’chn T’gai Spock _

 

“Any thoughts?” Scotty asked, offering the microphone once more.

 

Suddenly Jim felt that he was without words. He took the microphone and looked at Spock again.

 

“Spock...what his friendship means to me is beyond words. I wouldn’t be half the captain...no, half the man, if I didn’t have him by my side.”

 

The audience treated him with a small "Aaww."

 

Scotty offered the microphone to Spock. He looked at it silently for a moment, thinking. Then he took it. “There is no word in Standard to describe my friendship with Jim. However, in Vulcan, it is called T’hy’la.”

 

Jim cocked his head. He was fairly familiar with basic Vulcan terms--he knew how to order food in a restaurant, say hello, and have a rudimentary conversation. Sometimes he even practiced with Spock. He had thought he knew most relational terms, but he had never heard that one before.

 

“Well congratulations to our winners. If you all want to know the runners-up, and I know you do, they’ll be posted on the electronic board behind the bar. Which is now open! Have a good night everyone!” Scotty signed off. He left the stage quickly, headed straight for the bar. 

 

Jim smiled at Bones and Spock. They followed Uhura and Chekov off the stage a loud music began to pump into the room.

 

“This was fun,” Jim said, staring into the crowd. At his crew. Couples were kicking off high heels and rushing to the dance floor. Others were crowding around the board to view the final scores--Jim looked away coyly when he saw credits exchanging hands.

 

“Fancy a drink, Jim?” Bones asked. “Spock?”

 

“No thank you, Doctor. I plan to retire shortly after I have exchanged the appropriate amount of conversation with my colleagues,” Spock intoned.

 

“I’ll have a couple, but then I’m going to bed,” Jim said. “I’m getting too old for this, and I’ve got an antique copy of  _ Leaves of Grass  _ waiting for me in my quarters.”

 

“Most compatible couple? More like most boring,” Bones complained. “You two deserve each other.”

 

Jim fought the flush spreading over his cheeks. Spock seemed unphased.

 

“Alright, if it’s only going to be two drinks, let’s make them count,” Bones commanded, grabbing Jim by the wrist and tugging him to the bar.

 

“Good night Spock!” Jim called over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“Good night, Jim.”

 

“God,” Bones mumbled. “I need to get drunk.”


	2. Mr. Spock, is there anything you'd like to ask me?

The mess had cleared out--they had turned off the music and raised the house lights long ago. Scotty, Leonard, and the bridge crew were the only people in the whole room of empty tables. They had stayed under the pretense of “cleaning up,” but somewhere along the way, “cleaning up” had become “finishing off all the good liquor.” Then suddenly “finishing off all the good liquor” became “forcing Chekov to do drunken improvisational comedy.”

 

He was shockingly a raving success, if only because the drunker he became, the better his impressions got.

 

“Chekov, if Jim ever catches you doing that impression you’ll be in more trouble than you already are,” Leonard warned, biting down a smile.

 

Chekov slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. “Why, Bones,” he said, in a very good imitation of Jim’s voice, “I don’t believe Ensign Chekov has done anything to warrant any ‘trouble.’”

 

Sulu laughed around his glass. “Do your Spock!” He commanded drunkenly.

 

Chekov immediately sat straight up in his chair and raised one eyebrow. “Captain,” he said, now in Spock’s gravelly voice, “I must commend you for you logical conclusion. Ensign Chekov is most valuable to the crew.”

 

“Oh stop, Chekov,” Uhura wheezed. “He at least wouldn’t ever say  _ that! _ ”

 

“Be more realistic,” Scotty prompted.

 

Chekov continued. He rested both his hands on the armrests of his chair, his shoulders relaxed. “Why, Mr. Spock,” he murmured in the Captain’s warm voice, flashing doe-eyes at an imaginary first officer. 

 

Quickly, Chekov changed his posture again to ramrod straight and continued in his impression of Spock. “Captain, please…” he muttered, and only a little bit of his accent came through as he maintained Spock’s stoic expression. “It is not appropriate-”

 

Chekov switched back to Kirk, and it was easy to imagine the captain sitting on the bridge, fiery with passion. “Damn appropriate, Spock! We’ve waited years.”

 

“No, no!” Sulu guffawed. “Oh, Chekov I know where this is going!”

 

Chekov ignored Sulu’s laughter in order to switch back to Spock’s posture, this time standing from the chair and tucking his hands behind his back.

 

“Captain,” he said, giving a very convincing cold stare to an imaginary Kirk, “regulations state that we could not-”

 

“And damn regulations!” Chekov swirled back into his impression of Kirk. “Dammit, Spock. We’re a great team. We’re great partners. What can Command say against that? I love you, Spock, we should be together!”

 

The entire table burst into howling laughter. Fists banged on the table, the glasses sloshed where they stood. Scotty let out a long, low wolf-whistle.

 

“Captain…” Chekov whispered, and his impression of Spock was becoming less believable, more emotive. “Jim…”

 

“Propose!” Uhura catcalled.

 

Chekov immediately threw himself onto one knee, a face so full of hope and passion that for a moment everyone at the table was convinced they were really watching a declaration of love. It was quickly ruined, however, by Chekov’s Shakespearean monologue.

 

“Oh Spock, would you make me the happiest Captain in space and do me the honor of being my First Officer for life?”

 

Sulu jumped from the table and took Chekov’s hand. He batted his eyelashes and placed a hand on his cheek, clearly pretending to swoon. It was the worst impression of Spock anyone could have possibly done, but their three-man audience was roaring with laughter, whistling, and catcalling like they were really a crowd.

 

“Oh Jim...I don’t know what to say,” Sulu began in a horrible imitation of Spock’s voice. “I suppose it is only logical…”

 

“Of course it’s logical!” Scotty interrupted. “I bet the computer would even say so!”

 

This statement made both Sulu and Chekov break character immediately in favor of glancing at each other with devilish smirks. 

 

“Oh, oh, we have got to ask 3P now!” Uhura exclaimed. 

 

Chekov and Sulu jumped from the floor and rushed to the nearest computer terminal at once, both shouting into it at the same time loudly and completely incoherently.

 

“Language cannot be translated. Please repeat request,” the computer announced.

 

“Quiet, both of you!” Uhura shouted, pushing her way to stand at the terminal. She thought for a moment, cleared her throat, and then spoke:

“3P, what is the compatibility of Commander Spock and Captain Kirk romantically?”

“Working…” The computer responded. “Processing data on Commander Spock and Captain Kirk’s compatibility...Parameters required: describe parameters of romantic relationship.”

 

“Married!” Scotty burst out. “If they shared quarters, had a marriage certificate, the whole kit and kaboodle!” 

 

“Parameters defined,” the computer said. “Working...Result returned: compatibility is 100 percent.”

 

“100 percent!” Sulu exclaimed.

 

“I mean, they’re practically married already,” Uhura admitted.

 

“Incredible!” Scotty shouted. “Imagine, if only those two would stop batting eyes at each other every twenty minutes on the bridge, we might actually get some work done around here!”

 

“Work!” Leonard shouted, “I’d have no way to kick either one out of sickbay if they ever got married,” he groused. “Imagine any time either one of them got hurt, the other hovering over his bedside getting in my way, and with spousal rights to be there! I’d never get anything done.”

 

“Well the computer doesn’t lie, they’re probably made for each other,” Uhura argued. Then laughed.

 

“3P, is it your function to help maintain ship efficiency and to facilitate synergy?” She asked.

 

“Yes,” the computer responded.

 

“Can you lie?” Uhura asked.

 

“No,” the computer responded.

 

“Is it logical for the Captain and Commander Spock to get married, in order to increase ship efficiency?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

Uhura smiled, and turned to the doctor. “I rest my case.”

 

Leonard waved it off. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “I can at least thank my lucky stars that both of those idiots are too stupid to realize they’re head-over-heels for each other. Now, let’s do our cleaning duty and polish off the last bottle.”

 

“Seconded!” Scotty proclaimed. 

 

#

 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Spock,” Jim greeted as he stepped into the science labs. “What can I do for you?”

 

Spock turned from his experiments to give Jim a confused look. “Greetings, Captain,” he said slowly, before adding “I don’t require assistance at this time.”

 

Jim felt wrong-footed. “Oh, so you fixed whatever was going on with the reactors then?”

 

Spock frowned. “I was not aware of a malfunction with the reactors.”

 

“But in your message you said that they were acting strange and that you could use some help.”

 

“Captain," Spock began, raising one eyebrow, "I have not sent you any communications today. In fact, the last time I sent you a communication was during Gamma shift last week.”

 

Jim had a moment of self-doubt. Spock was no liar, and his memory was flawless. It was possible Jim had read the message wrong. But no--the memory was fresh in his mind.

 

“I’ll go get my PADD,” Jim said. “I’ll be right back.”

 

When Jim reached his quarters his was relieved to find his PADD on his desk with the same message on the screen that there had been moments before.

 

_ Jim, _

_ If you are available I request your assistance in Science Lab 201-A. I have identified an error in my data and I believe the cause to be the reactors. _

_ Spock _

 

Assured that he was not going senile at his young age, he headed back. Jim showed Spock the messages, a feeling of unease creeping up his spine.

 

“Captain, I did not send this message,” Spock reported, after glancing over the screen. 

 

“I believe that,” Jim said. “But it’s come from your PADD, and it’s signed in your name. We may have a breach. If someone has hacked your messaging, they could wreak havoc on ship communication.”

 

“I agree. But what was the purpose of sending you to the science labs?” Spock questioned. “Why hack into a heavily encrypted server to do a harmless act?”

 

“I’m not sure. Maybe just to test their powers.”

 

“Then they would have to be on the ship,” Spock said. “Or be able to monitor your movements in some other way, in order to see that they have accomplished their goal.”

 

Jim scratched his chin. “I’ll get Uhura on this,” he said. “And I’ll also have her scan all other messages, and send out a ship-wide alert.”

 

“A logical course of action. In the meantime, Captain, I suggest we only message one another through our communicators.”

 

“It’s a plan. I’ll have everyone wear communicators too, just in case.”

 

#

 

“Chess in my quarters this evening, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked as he stepped into the turbolift the next day.

 

“Certainly, Captain,” Spock replied. “The bridge,” he told the computer.

 

The doors slid shut. The turbolift didn’t move an inch.

 

“That’s strange. Maybe it didn’t hear you,” Jim pondered. “Computer, take us to the bridge,” he said louder.

 

The lift remained unresponsive.

 

“Perhaps there is a malfunction in the voice receiver.”

 

“Well, let’s test it,” Jim said. “Computer, what is the malfunction in turbolift B-1?”

 

The computer answered in its detached voice. “There is no malfunction in turbolift B-1.”

 

Jim and Spock shared curious looks.

 

“Why is the turbolift incapable of reaching the destination of the bridge?” Spock asked.

 

“The turbolift is capable of reaching this destination.”

 

“Then take us there!” Jim exclaimed.

 

“Doing so will decrease ship productivity,” the computer responded.

 

“Explain,” Spock demanded, and Jim could almost feel the curiosity pouring off of him in waves.

 

The computer was silent.

 

“Fascinating,” Spock breathed. 

 

Jim pulled his communicator from his belt, glad that the incident yesterday meant he had one. “Kirk to Scotty, we’re having some problems with Turbolift B-1.”

 

“Scotty here,” the engineer answered. “I’m not reading any malfunction in the system. What’s wrong?”

 

“The computer says taking us to the bridge will decrease ship efficiency. It won’t budge.”

 

There was silence over the line for a moment, before Scotty let out a stunned breath. “That’s impossible,” he muttered. 

 

“As it is currently happening, Mr. Scott, I assure you that it is in fact possible,” Spock deadpanned.

 

“I’ll come down with some laser cutters,” Scotty said, “and get you two out of there. Then I want a full stripping of the whole system. Top to bottom. Something is very wrong.”

 

“Thanks, Scotty,” Jim said. “In the meantime have everyone stay off the turbolifts. We’ll have to use the Jeffries and Anti-Grav boots until we get this fixed.”

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

#

 

They were on the bridge doing basic scans when out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Uhura go completely stiff.

 

“Lieutenant, is everything alright?” Jim asked.

 

Uhura’s mouth gaped open for a moment as she stared at whatever was on her display. Jim had never seen her at such a loss for words before. He straightened up, his fingers clenching on the armrests of his chair.

 

“I, um, well Captian, I…” She stuttered.

 

Jim, fully concerned now, got up from his chair to walk to her station. She looked in perfect health, besides being shaken.

 

“Lieutenant, report,” Jim commanded, hoping to snap her out of it.

 

Inexplicably, Uhura cast a furtive glance at Spock beside her, who was watching the scene from his own station with a detached curiosity. 

 

“Well, um, I suppose I should congratulate you, Captain,” Uhura finally said. Then, in a whisper, “are you two keeping it a secret? We can talk about it privately.”

 

“You two?” Jim parroted. “Who are you referring to?”

 

Uhura bit her lip. “You and the Commander,” she said. “About, erm, the  _ request _ ?”

 

Spock moved closer to Uhura now, having heard his name. “What request, Lieutenant?”

 

Uhura glanced between the both of them, looking totally perplexed. “Well, the marriage request,” she whispered.

 

Spock and Jim’s eyes both shot up to meet each other, stunned.

 

“Marriage request?” Jim said, regrettably loud enough for the entire bridge to hear. No one was even pretending to work now.

 

“Yes,” Uhura said. She tapped her display, apparently a little more confident now. “Starfleet command just sent a notification that you marriage request has been processed and approved.”

 

Jim bent over the screen to read it himself. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked up at Spock, who was reading the notification himself.

 

“Mr. Spock, is there anything you’d like to ask me?” Jim goaded.

 

“Captain I am sure you know that I have made no such request to Command, and that if I were going to propose to you, it would certainly not be in front of the entire bridge crew during our shift.”

 

Jim flushed completely red and did not think of the ways that Spock  _ would  _ propose to him, if he were so inclined.

 

“Something is wrong,” Jim finally said.

 

“Astute observation, Captain,” Spock teased. “Several events have occurred over the past week that have seemingly no explanation.”

 

“Right,” Jim agreed. “The PADD messaging, the turbolift, and now this.”

 

Spock nodded. “All these event had two common denominators, Captain. You and myself.”

 

“So, what does that mean?” Jim asked.

 

“The only conclusion, given our evidence, is that someone or something wants us married.”

 

“What?” Jim exclaimed. “Why?”

 

“I see no other reason that a marriage request would have been filed, unless we obtain more evidence that there was an ulterior motive.”

 

“How completely strange,” Jim muttered. “Well, the only thing to do is to try to figure out who is doing all of this. Whoever hacked into your PADD, whoever stopped the turbolift, and whoever filed this paperwork...if we can trace any of this, we can at least have a clue as to who is behind it all.”

 

Spock nodded again. “Agreed. Lieutenant Uhura, can you trace the original request for the marriage form, and see where it was requested from?”

 

“Of course, Commander,” Uhura said.

 

“I’ll go down to Engineering and have Scotty look over the turbolift again,” Jim said.

 

“And I will attempt to find the source of the message from my PADD,” Spock added. 

 

“Alright. Let’s get to work then,” Jim announced. “I want this mystery solved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I actually wrote the scene of Chekov doing improv first, before I even wrote the first chapter or had any intention of writing another Sprik fic. I planned the whole story around that one scene. I don't know if that makes me a literary genius or an uninspired writer. You decide.


	3. It would be logical to start by going on a date

Jim was exhausted. He had been awake for nearly 38 hours and in that time he had been tossed around by an unknown planet’s native carnivores, placated that same planet’s intelligent life forms after he had stunned the carnivore, and was so exhausted after that he stepped into a turbolift Spock was already in before Spock could stop him and they were trapped for a whole hour before Scotty cut them out again.

 

And they still didn’t have any answers as to who was behind the computer hacking.

 

All Jim wanted to do was lay down in his own quarters and sleep for as long as he was allowed, but when he got to his door, it wouldn’t budge. He almost started to tear up.

 

“No, no,” Jim moaned. “This can’t be happening right now!” He keyed in his access code again and again, but the door remained shut.

 

“Computer, open door!” Jim shouted.

 

“Can not comply with request. Request will-”

 

“Decrease ship efficiency, yeah yeah,” Jim finished for it. 

 

Jim was near panic--he just wanted to sleep. Maybe it was his weary mind that led him to what he said next.

 

“Computer, if you open the door then tomorrow I’ll go in a turbolift with Spock again and you can hold us there for  _ three hours _ before I even call Scotty. Please. Just open the door.”

 

The computer did not respond.

 

Jim leaned heavily against the door and sighed. That was that then. The captain of the best ship in the whole fleet was defeated. And by the ship itself nonetheless. 

 

Jim debated just curling up on the floor and sleeping in front of his own door--but he didn’t want his officers to see him so utterly hopeless. He sighed and began the long journey down to sickbay to beg Leonard for a bed.

 

As he walked down the hallway, though, one of the doors hissed open.

 

Jim was so tired he immediately stopped walking to allow whoever was coming out to pass before he realized who’s door had just flown open.

 

Spock was sitting next to his bed, cross-legged in his meditation robe, blinking at Jim with a curious gaze.

 

With utter horror, Jim realized why his doors wouldn’t open. And, he guessed, why no door except this one would open for him tonight.

 

“Although you posses the override codes to my quarters, your habit is to simply knock,” Spock said with an eyebrow raised.

 

“It’s not me,” Jim muttered. “The computer won’t let me in my quarters. But when I walked by your room, guess what happened.”

 

Spock’s eyes widened in understanding. “I see,” he said.

 

“It’s trying to get us to sleep together,” Jim stated simply. “Whether it wants us to do so in the literal sense or otherwise, I’m not sure. But Spock, I’m at the end of my rope here.”

 

“You are welcome to sleep here, Jim,” Spock said immediately.

 

“God, thank you Spock. I’ll take the floor.”

 

“Jim,” Spock said sternly. And Jim could see the same cold-iron stare in Spock’s eyes that he usually gave the enemy. 

 

“Say no more,” Jim relented, and fell face-first onto Spock’s bed. The room was set at a warm enough temperature that Jim didn’t need the bed sheets. “Whenever you want to go to sleep, just nudge me over and I’ll move,” he muttered through the pillow.

 

Then he finally, blessedly, fell asleep.

 

#

 

The next morning when Jim woke up, he had a moment of panic. It had been  _ years  _ since he’d been drunk enough to take someone home and then  _ not remember.  _ But as he blinked open his eyes and saw the pale green-tinted skin and the perfectly straight black hair, he realized it was only Spock.

 

He also realized that he wasn’t wearing his boots anymore, and that Spock was gazing at him, as awake as ever.

 

“Mornin’ Spock,” he mumbled.

 

“Good morning, Jim.”

 

“How long was I out?”

 

“Approximately fifteen hours and thirty-seven minutes.”

Jim rolled onto his back and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Shit.”

 

“You are not expected on the bridge for another three hours.”

 

“I know, I just usually go through the computer coding around this time. Try to find the source of the anomaly.” 

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Alone? I could have assisted you in this endeavor.”

 

“Yeah, like you haven’t looked at the code forward and backward and found nothing already,” Jim groused. “It just gives me somewhere to direct my frustration, even if it’s fruitless.”

 

Spock opened his mouth to respond, but a communication whistle cut him off.

 

“Subspace call for Commander Spock,” Uhura reported.

 

Spock got out of bed and sat down at the computer terminal, which was only a few feet away. Whoever was on the other side of that call was about to get an eyeful of not only Jim in Spock’s bed, sleep-ruffled and still in his uniform, but also Spock,  _ shirtless. _

 

Jim tried to make Spock aware of this fact, but he was too slow.

 

“I’ll take the call in my quarters, Lieutenant,” Spock replied, and the viewscreen blinked on.

 

“Greetings, mother,” Spock said.

 

Jim bounced out of Spock’s bed like it was on fire. He landed on the floor in a heap of blankets.

 

Amanda chucked. “I was hoping the Captain would be there!” She exclaimed. “I was so excited when I got the news. Don’t be embarrassed, Jim, I’ve been married for thirty-eight years. I know what folks get up to.”

 

“Mother,” Spock said, pained.

 

“Oh please, Spock, you’re always so close-mouthed about this and you can’t deny it after what was in my inbox yesterday!”

 

Jim sat up against the bed and stared at an absolutely beaming Amanda with some trepidation.

 

“What was in your inbox?” Spock asked.

 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be coy, the wedding invitation! Although honestly dear, why on Vulcan? Wouldn’t Jim be more comfortable having the ceremony on Earth?”

 

“Oh fuck,” Jim whispered, realization crashing down on him.

 

Spock’s shoulders tensed, realizing as well. “Mother, although it is logical to conclude that Jim and I have entered a romantic union based on the facts that you have received an invitation to our wedding, we have clearly slept in the same bed, and the fact that we possess unrivaled compatibility-”

 

“ _ Unrivaled? _ ” Jim interrupted, but he was ignored.

 

“-this conclusion is in fact incorrect. Jim and I are not in a romantic relationship and the invitation you recieved was a fake.” 

 

Amanda’s eyes widened in understanding, but Jim could see the thought  _ but you did still sleep together  _ hidden in the corner of her smile.

 

“Ah, I see. Well, that’s fine, I’ll just tell your father that he should mark that week as free on his calendar again. Honestly, I was a little offended that you hadn’t asked for any help planning the wedding, you do know how much I love them.”

 

“Yes mother.”

 

“Anyway, I can see that you’re in perfect health and very happy, and that married or not Jim is taking very good care of you.”

 

“...Yes mother.”

 

“Alright, my motherly worry has been placated. It wouldn’t hurt if you called me sometime though.”

 

“Yes mother.”

 

“Good. I love you. Bye, Jim!”

 

“Bye, Amanda,” Jim replied, feeling completely out of his element.

 

“Good-bye mother,” Spock said, and shut off the terminal. 

 

Jim and Spock simply blinked at one another for a few moments before Jim fell back against the bed.

 

“I’m going to have to call my mom,” Jim said, “and she’ll be furious.”

 

Spock didn’t exactly smile.

 

#

 

“Energize,” Jim commanded.

 

“Energizing,” Scotty replied, hands already pushing the dials. Jim felt the familiar tingle of the transporter beam, and closed his eyes in preparation for real sunlight.

 

Upon opening them, he found himself nose-to-nose with Spock. Or as close as they could get with their height difference. In reality, Jim’s nose was closer to Spock’s neck.

 

Jim stepped back and looked around at the rest of the beam-down group. They were standing just as they had been before on the ship moments ago, except now with shocked expressions.

 

“Is it bad that I’m hoping this was an honest transporter malfunction, and not what I think it is?” Jim asked.

 

“As you are already expressing that hope, it is pointless to ask whether or not it is morally reprehensible,” Spock dutifully responded. 

 

“Kirk to Scotty,” Jim said into the communicator.

 

“Scotty here.”

 

“Scotty, was there any indication of a transporter malfunction just now?”

 

“No. The beam down showed up as normal on my end. Is everyone alright?”

 

“We’re fine, except one centimeter more and I would have materialized inside Spock’s ribcage.”

 

“You think it was the computer again?”

 

“I do. Do a complete scan of the system, see if you can find absolutely any anomaly.”

 

“Aye sir.”

 

“Kirk out.”

 

Jim sighed and turned to face the beam-down party, who were trying not to giggle. “Alright, let’s do our jobs. McCarthy and Jones, you head north and try to find out what those strange metals are that we saw on the scans earlier. U’lana you can continue conducting your bioscans. Spock and I will assist where we can and do some scans too. We didn’t pick up any large life forms but I want check-ins every fifteen minutes to be on the safe side.”

 

“Aye captain,” the group replied in unison, going different directions.

 

Jim followed Spock to a large purple tree that was reminiscent of a terran palm tree, if the palms grew all the way down the trunk.

 

“This crosses the line. We need to do something about this.”

 

“I assume you are talking about the computer malfunction.”

 

“Yes, or whatever it is. First I can’t get into a turbolift with you unless I wanted to waste an hour of my chief engineer’s time. Then it was forging documents.  _ Then  _ it locked me out of my quarters. And as comfortable as your bed is, Mr. Spock, I would like to wear a T-shirt the next time I’m off duty.”

 

“You could replicate one.”

 

“Yes, but my point is that I want  _ my  _ things. That are in  _ my  _ room. And we need to fix this before it decides to lock us in a turbolift during a red alert, or it messes with another beam down and this time we  _ do  _ end up joined at the hip.”

 

Spock finished scanning the tree and moved on to a leafy yellow bush. “If the computer believed that it had achieved its goal, it would no longer interfere with our duties.”

 

Jim crossed his arms. “What are you suggesting?”

 

Spock did not look up from the tricoder. “We must convince the computer that we have entered a romantic union.”

 

Jim realized he was gaping and quickly shut his mouth. “How do we convince a  _ computer  _ of anything? We don’t even know who is behind all this or what their motive is.”

 

“What I am suggesting is only a temporary measure, Captain. It would, as you humans say, ‘buy us more time’ to find a permanent solution.”

 

Jim pressed his lips together. “Alright, you’re right. But you still haven’t answered my first question. How do we convince a computer that we’re dating?”

 

Spock shut off the tricoder. “It would be logical to start by going on a date. Are you available at 1900 hours tomorrow?”

“Well...yes.”

 

“Is the officer’s mess an acceptable place to meet?”

 

“Yes. But Spock, what about the crew? Wouldn’t they think it too?”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “It would be in our favor if they did believe it. They would most likely discuss it. Loudly. If anyone is monitoring conversations through our ship’s communications.”

 

Jim nodded. “Fine. But we at least have to tell the senior officers. I want them on this. We need their help.”

 

“Of course, Captain.”

 

“And I want to have a meeting with them about this first thing tomorrow. We’ll disable the communications in the staff room just in case anyone  _ is  _ listening in.”

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

“Good. Are you sure you will be comfortable with this?”

 

“Certain, Captain.”

 

“Even though, you know, everyone is going to think we’re actually together?”

 

The corners of Spock’s lips upturned. “I believe that forty-two percent of the ship’s crew already suspects we are in a romantic relationship, Captain. And even if that were not the case, you are a desirable individual and there would be no shame in having you as a significant other.”

 

Jim blushed. “Really? Forty-two percent?”

 

“Forgive my approximation.”

 

Jim laughed. Of course that is what Spock found outrageous about all this. “Forgiven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They sure as hell didn't exhaust every available option before they shared that bed. Suspicious.


	4. So you want to kiss then?

All of the senior officers had gathered in the room and sat around the table. Spock had briefed them on the mission and explained that they had disabled all surveillance they could. 

 

“I want each and every one of you on this case. Do everything you can to find out why all this is happening. And in the meantime, Spock and I have a plan,” Jim said.

 

“What’s the plan?” Leonard asked.

 

Jim blushed but looked him in the eyes. “Well, we’re going to make the computer think the mission has been accomplished. Then hopefully it will leave us alone.”

 

“But the mission is for you two to get married,” Uhura said.

 

“We’re starting with dating,” Jim muttered. “And if it really needs a ceremony, then we’ll have one. It already filed the paperwork. But hopefully you will have figured everything out before we result to that.”

 

“Captain, I’ve been thinking that this might be 3P’s doing,” Scotty interrupted. 

 

“I know, Scotty, but we’ve already checked her over twenty times. If there was a bug in her code, we would have seen it by now.”

 

“But what if she’s acting within her coding?” Scotty suggested.

 

“What do you mean?” Asked Sulu.

 

“Well, the design of the program is to increase ship efficiency, isn’t it? And what is the reason the computer gives you every time you ask why it’s doing all this?”

 

Jim nodded. “To increase ship efficiency. You’re right. Scotty, turn off 3P the second we get out of here. If anything changes, we’ll uninstall the whole program.”

 

#

 

Spock and Jim walked into Engineering. Jim was hopeful. Certainly Scotty had called them down to tell them the good news.

 

“I’ve got some bad news,” Scotty said the second he saw them.

 

Jim sighed. “What is it?”

 

“I switched off 3P an hour ago. But the protocol has integrated with the whole of the Enterprise’s systems. Captain, 3P is more advanced than I could have ever anticipated. The only way to stop her now would be to shut off every system we have with any meaningful computing power.”

 

“That would result in a complete system failure,” Spock added, “the ship would be nonfunctional.”

 

“Tell me you have good news too,” Jim begged.

 

Scotty smiled wryly. “I suppose the good news is that you and Spock make a pretty pair, Captain.”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow, his lips just barely curling up. Jim tried to begrudge Spock for finding humor in the situation, but it honestly made him feel a little less anxious. If Spock could see the bright side, Jim certainly could too.

 

Jim left a purposeful, lingering hand on Spock’s shoulder. He leaned in closer than absolutely necessary. “Alright, Mr. Spock. Let’s head back to the bridge.”

 

#

 

Jim was lying in Spock’s bed wearing only his boxers. Spock liked the room warm and Jim liked to sleep practically naked. Jim would have called it an easy compromise, except that it was so natural it didn’t even feel like a compromise. 

 

Everything about pretending to be with Spock felt natural. The flirting. Too many touches. Lingering glances. It was only now that Jim had to put a good amount of thought into his interactions with Spock that he realized how often he had flirted with him before the whole 3P mess.

 

“Jim, I have a proposal,” Spock said, standing up from his meditation to join Jim on the bed.

 

“I hope it’s not a wedding proposal. I wanted to be dressed when you asked,” Jim said on autopilot. He blushed when he realized that he’d just flirted with Spock without any audience--they had disabled surveillance in Spock’s room a while ago.

 

“I will keep your dress preference in mind should I ever feel the urge to propose,” Spock deadpanned without missing a beat. “But my proposal was a suggestion to further convince both the crew and the computer of our relationship.”

 

“Oh? What does it involve?”

 

“Kissing.”

 

Jim sprung up to sit straight, staring at Spock across the bed. “I’m assuming you mean in public.”

“Yes, that  _ would  _ be the most effective place to be observed.”

 

Jim licked his lips and couldn’t help but glance down at Spock’s. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t thought about it before. Spock was a beautiful man and Jim was only human--but Spock always seemed so...mannerly.

 

“I mean,” Jim muttered, “that certainly makes a great deal of sense.”

 

“Thank you,” Spock replied.

 

“Wouldn’t the crew be suspicious?” Jim questioned. “I would never view you as a person who publicly displays affection like that.”

 

Spock folded his hands on his lap. “Vulcans are often viewed as...a word I have often heard is ‘prude.’ However acts that express your involvement with another is logical. It is true that kissing as you are imagining it on Vulcan would be an outrageous act. Vulcans kiss another way.”

 

Jim tried not to look as desperately curious as he felt. “What is the other way?” He asked.

 

Spock unclasped his hand and lifted two fingers into the air. Jim immediately recognized the gesture and responded by pressing his own two fingers against Spock’s. Spock’s eyes widened and he blushed a deep green. Jim abashedly realized that maybe Spock’s demonstration wasn’t meant to be participatory.

 

“Sorry,” Jim mumbled, pulling his hand away.

 

“There is no need to apologize,” Spock said, slowly curling his fingers back to his palm. “I was merely surprised. You seemed to recognize the gesture.”

 

Jim blushed and looked at the wall. “Your parents,” he murmured. “When they came aboard. They did it a lot.”

 

Spock looked upward. “Yes, perhaps more than average.”

 

“So you want to kiss then?” Jim asked, trying to get back on track.

 

Spock eyed him for a long moment, and Jim boiled in the realization of what he just said.

 

“Yes,” Spock simply replied.

 

“Alright,” Jim agreed quickly. “First thing tomorrow in the mess.”

 

“Certainly, Jim.”

 

#

 

Jim and Spock ate in the mess hall often. The officer’s mess was generally cleaner and quieter by comparison, but both Jim and Spock agreed that it was important fo crew morale to appear in public spaces. Absolutely nothing about their current seating arrangement was anything out of the ordinary--except that Jim knew Spock was going to kiss him.

 

The anticipation was driving him insane. He had strategically placed his hand on the table the moment they sat down, and was careful to only eat his breakfast with one hand. Every time that Spock made a motion, even just to stir his tea, Jim flinched.

 

“Jim, you appear nervous,” Spock observed.

 

“Sorry, I know,” Jim said, taking a big bite of oatmeal and trying not to think about it.

 

“If you prefer not to-”

 

“No. It’s fine. This isn’t my first rodeo. It’s just--the waiting is killing me.”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. Then in one swift motion he reached over to Jim’s hand and held it. It wasn’t two fingers like Jim was expecting. It was a firm hand holding. Laced fingers and all.

 

“Jesus Spock!” Jim whispered, but he did not attempt to move his hand. “If Vulcans kiss with two fingers, what’s this?”

 

“I believe it is the human gesture called ‘hand holding.’ I deemed it more appropriate. You appeared anxious. Holding hands relieves anxiety in humans.”

 

“But Vulcans-”

 

“It is logical for a Vulcan in a romantic relationship with a human to participate in human romantic gestures. Just as you were willing to participate in Vulcan ones.”

 

Jim flushed and looked down at his oatmeal. “Thanks, Spock.”

 

Uhura suddenly slid into the seat next to Jim only giving their intertwined hands a cursory glance before she placed an open PADD on the table, moving Jim and Spock’s food in order to do so.

 

“Captain, Commander. I just made an interesting discovery.”

 

Spock let go of Jim’s hand and steepled his fingers instead, all business. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

 

Jim pretended not to notice how much he already missed the feeling of Spock’s hand and focused on what Uhura was saying instead.

 

“I have been trying to work out the source of the 3P virus for ages,” Uhura began. “I couldn’t find anything. Absolutely no anomalies. And then it finally hit me.”

 

Jim was on the edge of his seat. Uhura had the gleam in her eyes that meant she was onto something big. “What, Lieutenant?”

 

“There aren’t any anomalies because there isn’t any  _ virus.  _ There’s no rogue code because it’s part of the program. 3P is just following protocol.”

 

“But what about everything that’s been happening to me and Spock?” Jim asked.

 

“Right. Exactly,” Uhura said. “All the events were only linked to you and Mr. Spock. That is what made us think that it was a virus. But what it is doing for you and Mr. Spock is well within its protocol. Increase ship efficiency. Boost personnel relations. It even naturally has access to ship functions for data gathering purposes. Like the turbolift and the transporters.”

 

“Then what is you conclusion, Lieutenant? Why is the protocol only affecting the captain and I?”

 

Here, Uhura looked a little abashed. “We may have accidentally programmed it to try to push you two together.”

 

“Who is ‘we?’” Jim asked the same time Spock said “How?”

 

“All the senior officers. After the banquet we stayed behind and, erm, may have had a few drinks. One thing led to another, and we may have asked the computer if it was logical and if it was efficient for you two to be married. The computer calculated it and arrived at its conclusion. Ship efficiency would increase as a result of you being married. Therefore, 3P’s function was to have you married.”

 

“I will not ask how or why these questions were even posed to the computer in the first place,” Jim said, holding up a hand. “At least now we know the solution. Tell the computer to cancel the protocol.”

 

Uhura looked doubtful. “Unfortunately, Captain, it won’t be that easy. That means shutting down 3P. Increasing efficiency is 3P’s main function. The only way to stop it would be to disable the whole system.”

 

“And disabling 3P now means disabling the whole ship,” Jim bemoaned. 

 

“Don’t worry, Captain. I already sent a high priority message to Junior Lieutenant Hall. He should get back to us soon, and hopefully will be able to uninstall 3P without causing the Enterprise any damage.”

 

Jim nodded. “Good. When can we expect a response?”

 

Uhura pressed her lips together. “As far into space as we are, Captain, I think it will be at least a month before we rendezvous with a vessel all the way from Earth.”

 

“A month,” Jim repeated, numb.

 

“I suggest you two continue holding hands, in the meantime. Maybe even kick it up a notch or two. I bet the rumors will skyrocket.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They smooched.


End file.
